Going home was a very happy thought to Lennon, but he'd want to be able to keep in touch with the people he cared about from here. He'd often wondered if their memories would be wiped if they were ever released from here; could you miss something you'd been forced to forget? Thinking about it too much made his head hurt.
"I guess running out of money might explain this place," he cracked, placing his pillow on the floor and lowering himself down to plant his butt on it. "I mean, it's not that bad if you take away the monsters and that shit. Reminds me of a lake house I went to with my family for vacation, except that was nicer." He picked up his brush and started to paint again.